


drip, drip, drip on me

by cosmic strings (electrick)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Steve is a little shit, meet cute, pre serum steve rogers, the classic diner trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 21:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4114830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electrick/pseuds/cosmic%20strings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>steve takes his coffee black. meanwhile, bucky takes his coffee with cream and sugar. </p><p>they make it through okay, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	drip, drip, drip on me

**Author's Note:**

> honestly, this fic serves no purpose. i wrote it while i was at work, so i'm terribly sorry if there's no consistency.

There usually isn’t quite a crowd at half past 2 AM but the universe is full of surprises. While there’s a lull, Steve takes a break from bussing tables and cracks open his textbook. He wishes he could afford the newer ones, but the only ones he can buy are all second hand, already highlighted with notes all over the books. 

 

That’s how Steve ends up working on a Wednesday night. He’s got his US political history book on the cold war with an open notebook, sitting at the coffee bar. There are a total of 5 people in the diner, and 3 of them are working it. The bell chimes and that signals a new customer. Steve looks across the bar at George, the owner. He’s a stout man with a lot of hair. He’s got jet black hair that’s slicked back and hairy as fuck arms, and if you get close enough, you can see the hair in his ears. George is eyeing Steve to take his order. Steve shoots him a dirty look but gets up regardless.

 

He’s walking over to the welcome table and he almost slips when he sees the guy. He’s a fucking goner at the sight of him, actually. He is quite easily the most attractive person Steve has seen, even with the stitches across his eyebrow. His hair is long and dirty brown but tied at the nape of his neck. He’s got huge doe eyes. Steve’s always been told that he’s got big eyes but he just assumed it was because he was always so small that they just seemed unproportionally big. But he’s bigger than Steve. More built, taller. Hell, everyone is bigger than Steve. He’s got wide gray eyes that look like they could swallow you whole. He’s in a green hoodie and ratty jeans that are tearing away at the bottom.

 

What Steve notices first are the bags underneath his eyes, however. The skin there is darker, more colored and more frail. This, Steve has experience with. _He looks tired_ , thinks Steve.

 

Of course, he must be because why else would he be here at 3 AM?

 

“Sit where ever you like,” he says as he takes a menu in his hand.

 

He looks around, turning his head from one side to the next. He ends up eyeing the booths and settles in one of them. The diner lighting is hard with the colored undertones that change every minute. It was annoying at first but it helps Steve stay awake which is a good thing, he guesses.

 

“Here’s the menu, do you want anything to drink?” he asks the guy, “oh, and my name’s Steve,” he adds, mumbling the last bit and he’s fairly sure he’s blushing because he’s so embarrassed he forgot to introduce himself. He can’t believe he was so awed that he couldn’t even do his job. But, at least he’s found another reason to be thankful for those lights… they probably hid his blush if anything.

 

“Can I have come coffee? Decaf if you guys have some,” he says, his voice surprisingly smooth. Steve was expecting something a bit more gruff, to go with his ratty jeans but he finds himself pleasantly surprised. He nods and writes it down on the notepad even though he doesn’t need to (he just doesn’t want to fuck anything up, yes, that’s right). George has taken an active interest in this because he’s put his phone away and is eyeing them both with an eagerness never before seen in the 53 year old man (not by Steve at least). 

 

“He wants decaf,” Steve says even though he knows he’s gonna have to brew it. Not many people come in the morning looking to drink decaf. George nods and goes back to his phone. Steve shakes his head, walking to behind the bar as he starts brewing a fresh pot. 

 

“So Steven,” George says conversationally.

 

Meanwhile, Steve drags his eyes form the machine to George. He’s got beady eyes that are eerily settled on Steve and he doesn’t like it one bit. 

 

“So George,” he responds dryly.

 

“That guy’s cute, no?” he snickers, putting his mouth to his cup. He feels the tips of his ears heat up under the unwarranted attention but he powers through it.

 

“As cute as your wife,” he retorts and turns his attention back to the machine. Maybe Steve shouldn’t have done that since George doesn’t have a wife, but Steve’s always thought that George was into men, at least he gives that vibe since he’s always pointing out the cute ones.

 

He’s not one to judge, of course.

 

Steve can appreciate a good ass, regardless of gender. 

 

And this guy here has got a mighty fine piece. 

 

George stops responding and goes back to his phone. Steve takes the notepad and goes back to the table to take his order.

 

He walks back, scuffs the front of his shoe on the ground and trips a little right in front of his table. He reaches a hand out to steady himself and he’s rewarded with a warm sensation on his arm. It’s his hand, Steve realizes, and his palm is soft against Steve’s dry skin.

 

“Careful there,” he says. His nose crinkles a little when he smiles, and _oh my god_ , so do his eyes. 

 

“I’m Bucky. Didn’t get to say hi back…” he makes a weird gesture with his left hand and Steve knows exactly what he means. 

 

“What’ll you be having today, Bucky?” he asks with a soft smile. He knows George is probably still creeping so he’s got to maintain some composure. 

 

His name feels foreign on his tongue but he decides he likes the feel of it. 

 

“The reuben please,” he says as he slides the menu to the side of the table.Steve nods as he notes that and tells him he’ll be back with his coffee. 

 

When he's clipping the order to the counter, he hears George grunt and by god, if he didn’t need the money, he would have quit centuries ago.

 

He pours himself a cup of coffee before bringing it to Bucky’s table. 

 

“Cream and sugar?” he asks before pouring. For some reason, this is a hit or miss with Steve. Steve is the last man that should be judging anyone (he’s a pretty judgmental guy, ok) but god, he hates people who drink watered down coffee. That shit is disgusting. 

 

Bucky nods his head and Steve feels his heart sink to his stomach. It must show on his face because he looks at Steve and all Steve sees is the confusion in his gray eyes. He drops the crate with the cream and sugar a little too harshly before walking away. As soon as he passes Bucky, he closes his eyes and wince.

 

Great. What a fucking nightmare. 

 

He walks back and sinks his head into his book. He’s got a few minutes to spare before the sandwich is done, at least now, he’ll distract himself. 

 

When Steve finally gets back to his apartment, he nods hello to Sam who is leaving for his class.

 

For some reason, he keeps thinking back to Bucky when he’s falling asleep. 

 

—

 

This becomes a sort of routine for Steve and Bucky. 

 

Steve figures Bucky’s an insomniac whereas Steve just has to stay up at night for work. 

 

They have small conversation, mostly about their days and it’s always ambiguous.

 

Bucky still takes his coffee with cream and sugar. 

 

—

 

It’s been about 5 weeks since Bucky’s started visiting the diner and Steve falls for Bucky a little bit more after every visit. 

 

Steve finds himself sitting with Bucky when he does his homework instead of the coffee bar.

 

Steve still drinks his coffee black. 

 

—

 

“Do you maybe wanna get coffee sometime? When you’re not working?” Bucky asks one night (or day?) as he’s leaving. He’s smiling, and it looks like he’s pouting his bottom lip. How could he say no to that? 

 

“How about lunch?” Steve suggests. He doesn’t want to be reminded of the stupid coffee rule.

 

—

 

Bucky is different under sunlight, Steve decides, without the harsh colored lighting of the diner. He looks less pale, more happy. 

 

His hair is neatly tied at the back, and there’s less stubble on his jaw.

 

When he laughs, his body shakes and it echoes through him. 

 

When Bucky asks for coffee, Steve decides _fuck it_ , and says yes. 

 

—

 

Bucky wakes up, his arm curled around Steve. He’s warm under Bucky and his hair is sticking to his forehead. Bucky kisses the bare area behind his shoulder and gets up, putting on a pair of shorts.

 

He heads to the kitchen and brews a batch of coffee. 

 

When he pours them out into mugs, he doesn’t touch Steve’s. 

 


End file.
